Heft the stick in palms eager with beady eyes blaring out
hate crimes long plains small figure lone prey
raise the leg once, twice, flatwhiteplain cometh, small shrubs cometh,
in the first hefting of the stick there is silence, snapped twig-limb from mother tree, reverence
from the first lifting of the dirtgray hardsolid to the breaking, to the hitting and cracking
there is the sound of new deaths,
counters to all reasons of life and living; struggle for ease and in creating create comfort, ways to kill and sharpen, to release life,
such that big whiteplain and loneprey figure
are man place and food place with fingers to grasp at the sun’s beings and
teeth to rip out the light from the eyes of the nerved, frightful few
fleeing from the monsters that have brewed a new domination over the greatwhiteplains, bloodmess and purple brownbone snap
creakingmountain, cavescript, rainless
that the world turns quiet for itself,
shifting for the cold man stoneman rising through.